The Nightmare Cycle
by sue-sylvester-shuffle
Summary: Haymitch Abernathy sleeps with a knife. Effie wonders what he is so afraid of. When she tries to take it from him, he ends up cutting her. (SLIGHT HAYFFIE.)


"All right, Effie, that's enough wine for tonight."

She twirled the glass between her gloved fingers. For her, it was just another night of watching the Games all alone. This time, she'd decided to take a page out of her absent companion's book and spend the night with a bottle of wine. She hadn't gotten through all of it, though, like _he _would have. Alcohol made her sleepy, so she was going to get an early night. The flamboyant escort got to her feet, leaving the bottle and her glass behind.

As she walked down the hallway to her room, she felt a sudden urge to go check on Haymitch. _Must be the alcohol, _Effie thought to herself. She tiptoed into his room, where found him sprawled on his bed, fast asleep. There was a half-empty bottle of wine on his bedside table, and as always, he was clutching a knife. His fingers were wrapped tightly around it, even in sleep. He had slept with a knife for as long as she could remember. She'd never questioned it before.

Effie went over and sat down on the end of his bed. She debated taking the knife from him. If Haymitch rolled over in his sleep, he could potentially land on it and, well, _die. _She didn't want that on her hands, so she reached out to take it from him. Her hand brushed by his arm as she did so- and he reacted immediately. The victor sat bolt upright with a yell, waving his knife around like a blind madman. Effie screamed in shock and fell backward off of the bed, but not before his knife caught her in the arm. She was hit with pain like nothing she had ever experienced before in her life. Sitting on the ground, she looked down to see dark red blood dribbling from a cut on her forearm. Tears welled in her green eyes.

Haymitch stared down at her, blinking, trying to rid himself of the alcohol-induced haze that blocked his vision. A few moments later, his stormy grey eyes managed to focus on her, and he gasped.

"Oh, dammit, Trinket, I'm sorry." He got out of bed and knelt down on the floor beside her. "Let me see."

Effie had one of her hands clamped tightly over the cut, trying to staunch the bleeding. Still, red was leaking from between the fingers of her now-ruined gloves. Haymitch's shaking hands gently removed her hand from her arm. He struggled to focus on the cut.

"This isn't too bad." he murmured a few moments later. He took hold of her bloody glove and pulled it off of her hand. As Effie watched, he began to tie it around her arm, making a makeshift bandage.

"What do you _mean _it's not that bad!?" spluttered Effie, as tears rolled down her face. "It's bleeding, and it _hurts._"

"I _mean, _it'll recover pretty quick." Haymitch clarified. He finished tying her glove around the cut. "There you are. Hey, I'm really sorry. You just surprised me, that's all. I didn't know it was you."

"Well, who were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Not you."

"Haymitch, you sleep with a _knife._" Effie pressed on. "Normal people don't just do that. Who do you think is going to hurt you?"

Haymitch looked down at the ground. There were a few drops of her blood there. Effie couldn't read his expression. "I'm just not a normal person then." he muttered. Before she could question him, he suggested, "Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get one of the Avoxes to wash my gloves."

"I'm not worried about your clothes." he replied in a low voice. "I mean, clean the cut."

Effie had never done any sort of first aid before. "With soap?"

Haymitch shook his head, and then sighed. "No. I'll help you clean it. I _was _the one who cut you, anyway." His own words made him wince. "…Again, I'm sorry. I really didn't know it was you. I would never want to hurt you, sweetheart."

"It's all right." Effie replied softly. It wasn't all right, but she understood. Partially. She only wished he'd open up to her. Why _did _he sleep with that knife? Who was he so overwhelmingly afraid of?

Haymitch flashed her one of his rare smiles, but it was gone before Effie could really take it in. He got to his feet, and then extended his hand to her. The escort took it, and stood up as well. Together, they walked down the hallway to one of the bathrooms. When they entered, Effie sat up on the counter, and inspected the bandaging job that Haymitch had done. "Do you think this will leave a scar?" she inquired.

"Maybe." Haymitch replied as he returned with a dripping wet face cloth. "There are fancy Capitol treatments for scars, though. Mine are almost all gone."

"From when you were in the Games?" Effie asked, as Haymitch untied the bandage and began wiping down her thin arm.

"Yeah."

"I watched your Games, you know." Effie told him as he wrapped real bandages around her. "I was eight years old then."

"So you saw me in my glory days." Haymitch said dryly.

"I really hoped you would win." confessed Effie. She felt a warm blush spread across her face. "I was so happy when you did."

"Now you get to work with the real deal." Haymitch replied sarcastically, gesturing to himself. "That's great."

"I remember being so excited to meet you!" Effie went on enthusiastically. She could remember the day as if it had only been yesterday. "My parents brought me to one of these fancy Capitol parties, and you were there. I went up to you when you were all alone, and you just told me to get lost."

"Did I?" Haymitch said, mystified. "I don't remember that."

"You wouldn't. I was just a little Capitol girl. I figured you wouldn't remember me."

"Sorry, sweetheart."

"It's okay, Haymitch. You know, you looked the same then as you did tonight when you had the knife." Effie went on thoughtfully. "You looked scared."

Haymitch's eyes widened momentarily, surprise flashing across his face. Then he sighed. "I think it's time you got to bed, Trinket."

Effie obediently let him lift her up into his arms. As he carried her to her bedroom, she spoke up again. "Who are you always so scared of? The Capitol is safe. No one is going to hurt you, Haymitch."

She stopped talking when he dumped her in her bed. "Goodnight, Trinket." Haymitch called back.

"Goodnight."

xXx

Effie woke up in the morning, hungover and irritable. She didn't remember much of what had happened the previous night, and was furious when she found the scar on her arm. "I was going to wear a short-sleeved dress today!" she shouted at Haymitch, and then pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh. Too loud."

Haymitch couldn't think of anything but what she had said the previous night. _Haymitch, you sleep with a knife. Normal people don't just do that. Who do you think is going to hurt you?_

"They wouldn't hurt _me_." he muttered to himself once he was out of Effie's earshot. "They're past that point now, sweetheart. They know that torturing me won't do anything. The only way to hurt me is to hurt you."

_Who are you always so scared of? No one is going to hurt you, Haymitch._

"They're going to hurt _you,_ Trinket, they're going to _torture_ you."

She had entered his nightmares recently. He wasn't sure exactly when. Before, he would dream about the tributes he'd killed in his Games. He'd dream about Maysilee, and holding her bloody hands. He'd dream of his family being slaughtered by President Snow, the stench of his perfumed roses heavy in the air. Now, Effie had entered the cycle. He would dream of her being tortured in the very heart of the Capitol, being whipped and stabbed until her blood covered the floor. He would stand powerless as the tears would course down her face and she would call out for him.

That was what Haymitch Abernathy was scared of.

end


End file.
